My Devoted Patron

No one ever had a more devoted super patron. He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up. He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices, He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup. He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent. I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul. This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent. But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal. My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit. I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true. But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit. I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you. Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad. Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom. I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad. Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.